Their Path
by Wondering Heart
Summary: A different view on Harry's mission, and the reason why he and Voldemort could never work together. Won't take you too long to read, so why not give it a shot?


**The Path**

By a Wondering Heart

Disclaimer: If I owned Harry Potter, Tom Riddle would have definitely _not_ lost his nose. The beach setting is mine, though… Such a weird beach, anyway. Why would any lawyers want it?

A/N: This is the first fic that I'm writing in which I'll put this setting. Please expect another one soon; I rather like this little… "beach". THIS IS A ONE SHOT. And to the people that have actually read my other HP story, Not your average Tom Riddle story, please do know that I already have the chapter written on my notebook, but haven't really found said notebook at the moment. So, I'm sorry, but please be patient with me! That is all. Until the end of this fic, that is!

It was a strange place; with the water and the sun and the moon and the deep, darkening sky. A beach, of sorts, with pale white sand and a dark, immeasurable ocean. One boy walked this path, his dark eyes looking at—yet not really watching—the infinity of the trail ahead. This would be his life, he hoped: Never-ending. And he had been walking it for so long, never fully knowing what was going on outside this world of his. The setting sun was always almost giving way to the night but never really moved, and the moon refused to let go of its place in the sky.

Would life always be like this, he wondered— always walking and walking with no real place to go? Walking for the sake of it; knowing that, if he stopped, then he wouldn't be resting but instead just postponing the inevitable walk just ahead. Had this been his dream, or had it been something else, which he couldn't remember even if he were dead? And _was_ he dead, or was he only sleeping? Maybe sleep and his death were the same?

No… He must murder, murder, murder and keep away from himself what he, to others, so readily gave.

The boy kept walking, not fully knowing—was he a soul, or a piece, or a self? And why would the sun not set when it seemed it was always setting, and would the sound of the waves crashing against themselves and the earth ever fully go away from his head?

This was a boy—though not really a boy—who had lost even himself in his walk. This was a boy—though not really a boy—who had hated himself from the start. This was a boy—though not really a boy—who had, by his own, set himself in this path.

This was a boy… Though not really a boy…

Though not really a person… Though not really a heart…

This was a boy who lost everything, gave it all for this walk.

And then there was another boy, whom didn't really belong there, and truly did not want to be there at all. This was a skinny boy—a small, helpless little boy—that had been forced into this walk. He was alone, like the other boy was alone, but unlike this tall boy wasn't alone by selection. His parents had died, and although he had family, they couldn't care less if he crawled up there and died. He had been shoved here, into this beach, and did not know why or if he should walk. He was confused. He did not know he had strong legs to walk with.

The boy felt unworthy of walking this walk. He felt weak and defenseless and stupid. He thought himself unprepared.

The boy stood in this path, not really moving, but waiting and waiting for his fate to come. Listening to the waves as they crashed with the earth. Waiting for the sound of footsteps from somebody else.

He was a boy with a purpose, but a boy that did not know what that purpose was. A boy that didn't know why he had been picked.

He was a boy—and this time really a boy and only a boy—who had lost himself at the start. He was a boy—and this time really a boy and only a boy—who had to find himself before he could walk. He was a boy—and this time really a boy and only a boy—who would, in time, figure out who he was.

He was a boy… And this time really a boy…

And that meant only a boy… And one boy alone…

He was a boy who was only a boy who would by himself stop the other one from his walk.

And then, when the two met—the boy who was not a boy and the one who was just a boy—by the shore of this strange and immeasurable sea, and the boy who was not a boy and the one who was just a boy became sure that their paths would collide—the boy with his self-made path and the one who just stood—then the boy who was not a boy and the boy who was just a boy made the choice to be in different paths.

And the tall boy walked, and the short one did, too, but the problem is there just was one path. And they noticed this and knew this path was only meant to be for one. And so they both decided to fight, to argue over where this path would lead; for, you see, even when they were destined to the same path, they both wanted different things.

The path could leave to glory, immortality and power. This was a path that one had chosen, but that doesn't mean the other wants anything like that at all. The other boy wanted the opposite of this path—he wanted love, and peace, and hope and righteousness. The problem was that the path would never lead him there while the other boy was still there leading the way to his own dream.

Both boys would have to fight for their right, fight for their dreams if they're what they want. There was no other way.

Thus the boy with no heart and the boy with three hearts went into a war of their own.

And the Gryffindor lion — defeated? — the snake, yet that is yet to be known.

And while they fought, the waves crashed with the earth…

And the moon remained there and so did the forever setting sun.

A/N: So… Any questions? Guess who the two boys were. I hope there were enough hints. ;) (Crappy, I know, but then again… most of my stories are.)

Also, about the ending… I really don't know if the lion will _really_ defeat the snake or not. But if you think about it, he already won, didn't he? Even if he doesn't live or win the war, he had and still has his parent's love, friends… Meanwhile, all the other one has is just… well, some really small pieces (my guess) of soul. So even if Voldemort got to live forever and Harry died… well, think about it. Who really lived?

All sorts of constructive criticism appreciated. Yes, I know I need to make my works clearer to the reader, but that's just how my mind works at times and that's the part of my should I felt like exposing at the moment. You reviewing to tell me not to be an ambiguous git might really help me remember it's not nice to do that for next time, though. ;)


End file.
